


There's a train leaving nightly

by Pistol



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: M/M, PM me if you need more info, Trigger Warning in Effect, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol/pseuds/Pistol
Summary: L.A. changes everything.
Relationships: Carlos "Cougar" Alvarez/Jake Jensen
Comments: 18
Kudos: 44





	There's a train leaving nightly

L.A. changes everything.

The moment that Clay and Roque hit the water, Cougar knows that something is different. Unfortunately there's no time to fathom _what_ is changing or _how_ it's changing, because if they can't find the kill switch that Max dropped into the water, then there's a good chance no one at the port of entry will live long enough for it to matter.

So Cougar scrambles down while they keep diving, surfacing only long enough to draw air before plunging back under. It's too late and Clay and Roque must both know it, but none of them have ever been the kind of men who give up without a fight.

Clay breaks the surface just as the air starts to hum loudly enough to drown out the echoing sounds of Max's laughter. He doesn't bother diving again, and when Roque surfaces, he must feel it, too. Cougar watches as Roque forgoes another dive and instead treads water next to Clay.

Cougar knows without question that the whole team has stopped what they’re doing. This isn't defeat, and it sure as hell isn't surrender, but they are waiting. Ready and needing to face whatever is coming without distractions.

"Clay," Roque says, but the humming crescendos to an almost painful level and Cougar can't hear the rest.

\----

It changes them; it changes everyone around them. They just don't know it yet.

\----

They split up, stay low, and get far away. The world, and more importantly the media, goes mad, making it that much easier to fade into crowds and slip out of sight.

By the next morning, the national guard has surrounded most of L.A., and the CDC is putting out messages on every newspaper, TV channel, and radio frequency. They talk about airborne spores, hallucinations, and the tragedy that this illness seems to kill everyone it touches. They urge people to stay in their homes and report any unusual symptoms to the authorities.

Halfway across the country, the Losers regroup in a dingy hotel and watch the news.

"The waitress was saying there's weird shit going on with the internet." Pooch has a tight look on his face. "News sites, blogs, and other pages are going down. She thinks it's weird they aren't hearing about it on the TV."

"Weird," Roque says like he's trying out the word. "Well, that's one word for it."

Clay's cell rings, startling everyone, and he answers it warily only to quickly hang up in irritation.

"Max," he growls. "Sadistic fuck is playing games."

Cougar's cell rings next, followed by everyone else's. It's stupid, childish, and so perfectly _Max_.

Clay scowls as he breaks their phones one by one under his boot.

There's a soft _pop_ and then Roque's quiet call of, "Clay," that makes the room still.

Roque is holding one hand out in front of him like it might bite and holding a shredded pillow in the other. Around him, the cheap motel's comforter is in tatters. He makes eye contact with Clay as he calmly presses his fingers against the floral wallpaper, dragging his hand and carving out a trench of ripped paper and crumbling plaster in the wake of his fingers. Roque pokes at his forearm while everyone holds their breath, but nothing happens. The head board isn't so lucky when he grabs it.

"Well," Clay says after a pause. "I'm guessing everyone else sees that, too?"

\----

Roque doesn't touch anything or anyone except himself for three days. By the fourth day, he tells everyone that he thinks he's figured out how to avoid slicing up anything he touches, but Clay ends up needing stitches.

"You'll figure it out."

Roque nods, still unable to look at Clay.

\----

They steal a car and head north when the news still won't shut up about the tragic deaths the 'infected' endured. The woman on the radio repeats over and over that from all reports, the victims felt little to no pain, and then the message is the same: an encouragement for people to call in any suspicious behavior as it might be symptom related.

"Turn that shit off," Clay snaps at Cougar.

With shaky hands, Cougar turns off the radio. He glances over at Clay before violently jerking the car to the side of the road. The moment the car stops, Cougar's scrambling out of the driver’s seat and putting distance between him and Clay.

The others climb out slowly and speak in soft tones. It's not the first time Cougar's freaked out, but after a silent moment of communication it becomes clear that someone needs to take point and handle it.

Pooch moves forward slowly. "Cougs, what -"

Cougar shakes his head, eyes still fixed on Clay as he whispers, "I had to."

"Had to what?" Pooch asks gently. "We're all here-"

"Radio." Cougar's face is pale, and his hands continue to tremble. "The radio _had_ to be turned off."

There's silence, and then Roque makes a thoughtful sound. "Well, that explains why I gave Clay the last cup of coffee."

Three pairs of eyes fall on Clay.

"Shit."

"Clay," Pooch says hesitantly. "Let’s test this out and not jump to any conclusions, yeah? Try it on me, tell me to … I don't know, pick up a rock or something."

Clay nods. "Pooch, pick up a rock."

Pooch tenses up, but makes no move. "I, uh, don't really feel any urge to pick up a rock."

"Order him to," Roque suggests. "_Want_ him too."

Clay straightens his shoulders, brow furrowing in concentration as he stares over at Pooch. "Pooch. Pick up a rock."

Pooch's eyes go wide as he slowly bends and picks up a small rock, holding it out for Clay in his hand.

"Motherfucker," Clay mutters darkly, looking anything but pleased.

\----

Cougar spends the next two days in the back seat with a migraine and a short temper.

On the third day, Pooch startles Roque and gets a four inch cut on his neck. It heals right before their eyes and leaves no scar tissue behind.

On the fifth day, Cougar ends up punching a man at a gas station out of the blue. By the time Roque separates them, Cougar is covered in blood from a wound that disappeared when Pooch grabbed him.

Clay's temper snaps. "What part of _low profile_ don't you understand?"

Cougar averts his eyes, jaw set firmly. "He was a bad man."

"You know him?"

Cougar shakes his head, opening and closing his mouth twice before shrugging, "No, but I _knew_ he was." He watches the other end of the parking lot where a woman is climbing into the guy's car before looking Clay in the eye. "I _felt_ it."

Clay sighs. "And when you say felt?"

"The way I feel your anger when you forget and order one of us to do something."

"So ... you're feeling what we feel?"

Cougar shrugs. "I try not to."

"The headaches."

Cougar tugs down his hat. "We're all stressed. Angry. Scared."

\----

Out of the blue, letters start showing up. They appear in their motel rooms, in the truck, and Pooch has a minor meltdown when one shows up at Jolene's house.

The letters themselves contain various things- information about Max, leads on Max, and even an envelope full of new IDs and corresponding credit cards at one point.

The letters all end the same.

_Don't give up. You're not alone._

\----

Clay spends most of the day drafting a reply. He burns at least a dozen failed attempts before finally stuffing one in an envelope and leaving it under the windshield wiper of their current van.

Roque keeps watch. He sees nothing, but when morning comes, the letter is gone, replaced with a new one.

\----

Like the letters said, they're not alone, and it quickly becomes clear that they have a benefactor who's willing to ask nothing of them and give them anything they ask for. That in itself throws up an army of red flags, but with no other allies, they reluctantly agree to accept the offer of help when needed.

There's a seemingly endless supply of money and skilled individuals willing to help them stop Max. Still, every new helper gets carefully 'read' by Cougar. It helps that all of them honestly want to help and all of them are consumed with rage and loss that's directed at Max.

It's not enough to trust them, but it's enough to let the helpers near them.

Clay stops asking how they always know when to arrive or what they need when they arrive. The helpers shrug off the questions, and the letters only say one thing in reply: _They were trained by the best._

\----

The current helper is tall, blond, wears silly glasses, and smiles all the time despite never managing to look actually _happy_. He would probably seem capable if he ever shut up, but he doesn't.

He makes Roque twitchy, Clay stressed, Pooch wary, and all these emotions make Cougar's head feel like it's been bashed against a brick wall by the end of the day.

"He's just here until we finish the job," Clay reassures them.

Everyone makes various noises of acknowledgment while the helper continues to tap away on a laptop, doing a decent job of looking like he wasn't trying to listen in.

No one needs to be told to keep an eye on him or that Roque will be taking the first shift.

"So what do you know?" Clay asks the helper carefully. "Jason, was it?"

The man looks up with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Jensen, sir. You can call me Jensen." He pauses. "I know everything there _is_ to know about the situation."

"Everything?"

"Yup. How Max is a no good, very bad man. How he ended up creating a weapon he didn't understand. That this weapon is why people near the L.A. Port of Entry woke up feeling like superheroes." Jensen's smiles dims. "I know that those people weren't hallucinating as a side effect of some crazy weaponized spore. I know those people didn't die peacefully in their sleep so much as they were hunted down, killed, and studied in secret labs. Not necessarily in that order."

Clay nods, searching Jensen's face.

"And, yeah, I know you guys were there. That you you changed like those people did. I don't care about that. My employer just wants Max dead and the tech that did this destroyed."

"So we’re all on the same page, then."

"More or less," Jensen says with a hollow smile.

\----

Jensen wears a watch that starts screaming every six hours. He refuses to take it off or turn it off, and insists on bugging each and every one of them after each alarm.

After a particularly long day, Roque goes so far as to carefully cut it off Jensen in his sleep. Jensen wakes up the moment the watch is gone, blindly groping for an object that's no longer there. After a moment his face pales and he looks up at Roque with a mixture of betrayal and rage.

"Give it back. That's _all_ I have-"

Mind numbing waves of pain come at Cougar, stronger and clearer than anything before. It's enough that that he barely registers raising his voice and demanding Roque return the watch.

Everyone goes quiet when he's done speaking, staring nervously between Jensen, Roque, and Cougar. Eventually Roque steps forward, carefully holding out the battered watch.

Jensen quickly snatches it up, clutching it to his chest with white knuckles. He stays like that for a moment, relief and loss flooding through Cougar as Jensen turns the watch over, stroking the back.

No one has trouble identifying exactly how terrified the absence of the object made Jensen. No one is stupid enough to say anything about how Jensen's reaction had affected Cougar.

"Son," Clay tells Jensen in his CO voice, the same one that's soothed Cougar's nightmares and spurred three men to start a mission of vengeance against a voice on their radio, "no one's gonna take that from you again. I swear."

Jensen isn’t listening, though, still staring at the watch. "It's all I have left."

The cheap digital watch doesn't look like much, but they all understand. Some of the most valuable items have no real worth.

\----

Things change again after that. Roque disappears the next day only to show up with a small paper bag. He speaks quietly to Jensen, and then to everyone’s shock, Jensen hands Roque the watch. The room holds a collective breath as Roque gingerly accepts it.

Roque sits next to Jensen and carefully opens the bag, pulling out a brown leather watch strap almost identical to the one he cut. Jensen rambles quietly about nothing as Roque replaces the broken strap.

It's ... comfortable.

\----

Later that night, when the watch's alarm goes off, no one says anything. They all allow Jensen to makes his rounds, checking the windows, the doors, and waking them for more of his bullshit reasons.

\----

Jensen manages to talk so much that it stops being strange. Everyone starts to relax around him, giving only minimal protest when Jensen follows them around like a stray puppy.

"He's a bit odd, isn't he?" Pooch says carefully as they watch Jensen gesticulating madly as he tells something to Roque.

"I think Max killed his family," Cougar confesses.

Pooch frowns, and the waves of sympathy and rage make Cougar dizzy for a moment.

"Explains why he seems so attention starved," Pooch murmurs.

Cougar shrugs. "He lost everyone he loved."

Across the parking lot, Roque leans his head back and laughs at something Jensen says, the rich sound and a wave of mirth washing over Cougar along with a burst of painful longing from Jensen.

Cougar watches closely as Jensen excuses himself for the night, heading back to his own private room. His room gives off sorrow so strong that Cougar can't sleep that night.

\----

"So, the last helper was with you guys for almost six months. What was he like?"

There are various vague mumblings before Clay shrugs. "Average, I guess."

Jensen chuckles, sending off an odd mix of emotions that Cougar can't untangle.

"You think you guys could be bothered to remember his name. Hey," Jensen says turning to Cougar with shuttered eyes. "What's my name?"

There's something there, something that makes Cougar want to touch Jensen's face and ask what's wrong. Instead, he rolls his eyes. "Jensen."

"We couldn't forget you if we tried," Pooch says with no real venom.

\----

Jensen likes to plop down on the couch next to Cougar with a bright smile, dull eyes, and an attitude that says he sees nothing wrong with his actions. Cougar doesn't exactly discourage him, so he can't reasonably complain when Jensen is witness to something private.

"Whatcha looking at?" Jensen asks, motioning to the faded picture in Cougar's hand. Cougar looks down at the worn picture and feels a small smile pull at his lips.

"Beth," he says tilting the picture to show Jensen. A wave of fondness and an ache of loneliness hits Cougar, but he brushes it off easily, having become used to the near constant pain that lurks in Jensen.

"She's going to be ten soon," Cougar tells him before his mind can figure out why he’s saying this.

Cougar looks back at the picture, the tiny blonde girl sitting on his shoulders while wearing his hat, smiling brightly at the camera. He tucks it away into his wallet.

"Who is she?" Jensen asks.

Cougar stills, wary of such a question.

"Not like that, dude," Jensen huffs. "You don't gotta tell me where she lives or anything, but you know..." He makes a vague gesture. "She doesn't really _look_ like you... so..."

There is curiosity there, but nothing sinister when Cougar probes deeper.

"She's important," Cougar says, searching for the words to describe Beth.

"Your kid?"

Cougar frowns, feeling his head start to hurt. "No."

"Adopted?" Jensen asks with sharp eyes.

Cougar rubs at his temples in frustration, the words for Beth lost to him in every language he knows.

"She's family." Cougar finally settles on. "But _not._" He catches Jensen's eyes, to make sure he understands. "I'd kill for her."

Jensen blinks and looks away, as waves of affection pour off him. It's an odd reaction, but Cougar long ago became used to odd.

\----

On a crowded bus in South America Cougar sits closer to Jensen than is necessary or acceptable.

Jensen says nothing, but his eyes laugh when he looks over at him. Carefully out of sight, Jensen brushes his fingers over Cougar’s.

\----

Three towns over, Cougar drinks until he's brave enough to drag Jensen out of the bar and drop to his knees in the alley.

The emotions that Jensen give off in the dark are almost as intoxicating as the drinks in Cougar's system, but underneath them, there's still that bitter spark of sorrow.

But when Jensen groans softly and tangles his fingers through Cougar's hair, it seems almost perfect. Cougar makes an important decision, one probably not wise to make as Jensen pants and dirty rain water seeps into the knees of Cougar’s jeans, but he trusts his gut.

When Max is dead and gone, Cougar's going to do the same to Jensen's sorrow.

\----

They finally find Max in Italy.

They expect well-armed guards and come prepared.

They don't expect the explosion.

\----

Cougar wakes up in a moderately nice motel room to find Pooch staring down at him.

Pooch smirks. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Cougs."

Cougar licks his lips twice before attempting to speak. "Max?"

"Dead," says an unfamiliar voice.

Pooch's lips thin, but he nods at Cougar, letting him know it's okay.

"He's our new helper. Helped me bust you guys out of the hospital so I could heal you up."

Cougar frowns. "The last one?"

"He died in the blast," their helper says.

Cougar turns, looking over to their new helper. He's tall, blond, and he smiles at Cougar despite having sad eyes hidden behind silly glasses.

"Your name?" Cougar asks after a strangely heavy silence.

"Jensen. You can call me Jensen."

Cougar nods, still wary of the stranger and unhappy to lose someone as important as...

It's strange. Cougar can't place the last helper's face or name, but it doesn't matter. He couldn't have been all that important.

Jensen smiles, and a wave of sadness hits Cougar. "I worked my tech voodoo for you guys. Scrubbed your old identities and built you new ones. Safe ones. Ones for your families, too." He pauses, looking over at Roque and Clay. Asleep or unconscious, Cougar can't tell from the way they're curled against each other on the bed.

"I even redistributed Max's wealth among the identities. You guys could retire now, if you wanted."

Pooch nods with a cautious smile. "Thanks for that."

Jensen waves it off, eyes locking on Cougar. "So, that's it. I did my part."

"You're leaving?" Cougar hears himself ask.

"Yeah. You guys need to go take care of your families and take care of each other. Me." Jensen doesn't bother pretending to smile. He just shrugs. "It's been fun, but I gotta go." 

"Where?"

"I gotta go," Jensen repeats, sounding more like he's trying to convince himself than them. He turns his head, but not before Cougar catches the wet shine in his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll all probably forget all about me before lunch."

There's a sharp edge to Jensen's voice that makes Pooch still. Jensen smiles apologetically, looking down and gingerly unfastening a battered watch from his wrist. He looks it over, thumb brushing fondly over the surface before he tosses it to Cougar.

"You should have this," he tells Cougar with a brittle voice. A wave of complicated emotions roll off Jensen. Regret, loss, hopelessness, resignation, and longing clamor together in Cougar’s head until it's physically painful. He shakes his head in a vain attempt to throw off the feelings.

"Sorry," Jensen says quietly. "I forget sometimes." And just like that, the overwhelming noise is only a murmur.

Cougar looks up at Jensen in confusion and then down at the watch. It's unremarkable, cheap, but it also makes his head hurt much the same way the emotions pouring off Jensen had felt.

"What...?"

"You know, I always wondered why you got that ability," Jensen says, ignoring Cougar's question. "The Snuke seems like it worked like a monkey's paw from what I can tell. Pooch was hurt, so he healed. Clay wanted to control the situation, so he controls. Roque probably felt like cutting up Max pretty good after having to pretend to be on his side for so long and turned himself into a walking knife." Jensen chuckles, but the sound is hollow. "But what I can't figure out is what exactly were you thinking when Max's bomb went off, Cougar?"

Pooch's eyes narrow, his voice low and dangerous. "How do you know all that?"

"I was there," Jensen says offhandedly, still focused on Cougar. "So what exactly went through your head, Cougs?"

Cougar shakes his head as fuzzy memories from that day return in distorted fragments.

"I... was worried."

"About?"

Cougar shrugs. There's a moment of hope that someone or something was okay that stands out as a lucid moment in his mind’s eye, but the rest is a fog.

"My... team?"

A short burst of pain hits Cougar before being dampened.

"So that's it. You were worried and wanted to know everyone was okay." Jensen looks away, swallowing roughly.

"You're one of the people affected, aren't you?" Pooch accuses.

"I was."

"So what happened to you?"

"Me? I was poking around on a bad guy’s laptop and trying my best not to leave a trace while I transferred his money into another bank account."

"So what happened to you?"

"I got better at balancing my checkbook," Jensen says dryly. "But I need to be going. It's … been fun, gentlemen." Jensen gives a cheeky salute as he heads for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Pooch calls after him.

Something dark, cloying, and terrible comes from Jensen, but it disappears as quickly as it came, leaving Cougar off balance.

Jensen stills, hand hovering over the door knob. "I don't know, really. I don't think anyone really knows the answer to that question."

"Weird fucking guy," Pooch says when the door closes behind Jensen. "Bet that fucker has some weird money power. I know I sure as hell-"

Cougar tunes Pooch out, nodding absently as he notices an inscription on the back of the watch.

_J,_  
Tuyo para siempre  
\- C 

\----

The next day, the police and ambulances are swarming their motel.

"Tell me what is going on," Clay orders one of the cops.

The man turns, snarky retort dying on his lips as he turns to face Clay.

"Blonde guy offed himself. Cleaning lady found him. I was the first on scene," the officer reports dutifully. "It was the first dead body I've ever seen and I ended up throwing up behind the building, and I'm worried my trainer knows. I don't want to be remembered as the guy who threw up when he saw his first body."

The whole team relaxes, and Clay pats the man on his shoulder. "Thank you. Now get back to work and forget that we talked."

The policeman blinks but then walks away in a stupor while Clay turns back to the team with a relieved smile.

Cougar watches a body being carried out on a stretcher and can't bring himself to stop touching a watch he doesn't remember owning.

**Author's Note:**

> Was previously posted, then taken down. Now it's back up. Beware the errors and typos, I suspect the files I found on my old harddrive are the pre-beta versions.  
Please don't steal any of my silly stories and change some names around and then try to sell them as books on Amazon or I'm gonna have to take everything down again.


End file.
